My favorite part of Ellis Island was the immigration museum. I've complained about the campaign to restore other buildings on Ellis Island several times before, but my opinion on that matter didn't keep me from having a nice time.
My favorite part of Liberty Island was the Statue of Liberty. Previously, my only exposure to that piece of real estate was via Floyd's copy of Grand Theft Auto IV. It was wonderful to see, live and in person, the small structure that provided my virtual self cover as I shot down police helicopter after police helicopter, before ultimately fleeing the island by boat, somehow outpacing law enforcement, and surviving unscathed. Only in America; only in New York.
You have seen photos of these landmarks before, so let's move on to what you haven't seen.
Our group gathered on the Great Lawn of Central Park that evening to hear a free New York Philharmonic concert.
There were a lot of alfresco diners! And what better place than Central Park, home of a few portable toilets with no adjacent handwashing facilities? More wine and cheese for everyone!
Adrienne brought Emma, the dog with a human name. Everyone loves her (Emma). Linds sure does!
And Floyd!
And me! The better part of my stay in the city was spent teaching Emma how to "shake paw".
Rain interrupted and canceled the philharmonic less than halfway through the performance, which was a surprise to everyone who hadn't checked the weather report or looked up. Sharing umbrellas, we trudged out of the park shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the mass. We boarded a train for Tribeca. ALL of us.
We all went to a bar. ALL of us.
Adrienne's friend's friend worked for Peroni, so you can guess what we drank for free. (Peroni. We drank Peroni for free. Because why would we pay for Peroni?)
Saturday, we enjoyed some culture at the Brooklyn Museum, and impersonated the art.
After more Brooklyning, we retired to Floyd's shitty Crown Heights roof, then transferred over the rail to his neighbor's very nice Crown Heights roof. We drank and laughed and enjoyed the view.
Later, two peculiar sounds pierced the Brooklyn night.
"Were those gunshots?" Floyd asked.
"Those were definitely gunshots." I said.
"It was probably just a car backfiring." Linds said.
Then a patrol car's siren sounded. And another. And one more. A helicopter launched from somewhere behind us.
"I'm very impressed with the police response to that car backfire. They are really going all-out to assist that motorist."
"Shut up." Lindsay said.
We watched the helicopter and its searchlight circle the crime scene, which turned out to be a few blocks closer than we'd hoped.
On Sunday, we had brunch and flew home. The end.
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